


The Loss I Have Sustained

by rebelmeg



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Sirius Feels, descriptions of dead bodies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-25
Updated: 2016-07-25
Packaged: 2018-07-26 15:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7579027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rebelmeg/pseuds/rebelmeg
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The missing explanation of what happened when Sirius found the Potters that night in Godric's Hollow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Loss I Have Sustained

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is based on many prompts or comments I've read over the years I've spent on Pinterest and Tumblr searching out everything from my fandoms. About what Sirius would have done, finding his best friend dead. What he would have said to Hagrid before letting him take Harry. The aftermath of finding them and being sentenced. The fact that there were actually three dead bodies in the house, not just two.
> 
> So, anyway, I finally knit all my thoughts together, and I'm ready to tag this and release it into the wild!

Very occasionally in Sirius Black’s life, he would get a very bad feeling, and usually he right about it. More often than not he’d realized that either he, himself, or someone close to him was in some sort of danger. It had even saved his life once.

This, though, this sudden, overwhelming swell of panic, was… probably the most extreme such feeling he’d ever had, and it immediately made his heart start to pound as he gasped.

Something was wrong. That was all he could think, and his brain pulsed with it as he raced through the abandoned cottage he’d been holed up in since last night. He’d been lying low to maintain the rumor that he was Lily and James’ Secret Keeper, occasionally apparating elsewhere to throw Death Eater’s off his trail and coax them as far from possible from where Peter was staying.

He sped outside and straight to his concealed motorbike. He had to get to James and Lily’s house, right now. He had to make sure they were alright, and once he’d done that, he’d find Peter and Remus and make sure they were safe too. Unbidden, a surge of dread nearly swallowed his heart, but Sirius shoved it back as he got astride his bike and revved it to life, rising into the air. 

Everything was fine. It had to be fine.

\--------------------------------

As soon as Sirius landed, skidding to a stop on the drive, and got a look at the house through the smoke that was still rising… the feeling of dread that had been plaguing Sirius on the entire ride over grew to enormous proportions and punched through his body, making his knees wobble as he got off the bike. He had to stop for a moment, clutching the handlebars, just breathing as he looked at the destruction, fearing the absolute worst. Lily and James…

A cry, scared and hurt, pierced through the quiet and had Sirius stumbling towards the house as fast as he could move. Harry. That had to be Harry. A bubble of hope rose through the cavern of emptiness in his chest at seeing the remains of the house, and for the first time since he’d seen the rising smoke, he allowed himself to believe that maybe… just maybe.

The front door was wide open, and hanging crooked from just one of its hinges, obviously having been blasted open. 

“James!” Sirius called as he breached the doorway, his eyes searching through the dark. “Lily!” Fumbling for his wand, he briefly berated himself for not having had it drawn sooner, and he lit it with a quick murmur, sweeping the thin beam across his field of vision.

The entryway was clear, and he moved slowly into the living room. Bits of the ceiling had fallen in, leaving a fine layer of dust all over everything. He called out for James and Lily again, his voice slightly hoarse with the terror he felt at not being answered. And the terror mounted as his eyes adjusted and he saw a dark shape lying on the floor.

The beam slid across the shape on the light carpet, and Sirius’ throat constricted as if a wire had been tightened around it. Lit by the wavering beam of light… James’ blank, wide open eyes stared at the ceiling.

It was obvious even from across the room… James was already gone. There was no trace of the stupidly brave, laughing, obnoxious person in that body.

Sirius choked as he gasped, and he didn’t even remember crossing the room. Just falling to his knees next to his best friend, reaching out a violently trembling hand to the pale, still face with glasses still perched, crookedly, on his nose. James didn’t twitch as Sirius’ fingertips brushed his cheek. He didn’t blink when his friend’s shaking hand knocked a lock of hair into his eyes. He didn’t even flinch when a broken, wretched sob burst out of Sirius’ mouth like the sound of an animal in agony.

“James,” The name left his mouth the way some spells did, with expectation behind it, and even though he knew, he knew that there was nothing to be done, he said it anyway.

The empty face didn’t change, the prone body didn’t move. The sightless brown eyes didn’t light up in recognition.

Grasping his wand from where it had slipped from his fingers, Sirius pointed it at James’ chest and though his voice shook as badly as his hands, he still put force behind his voice.

“Rennervate.” He commanded, and the flash of red light hit James square in the chest, but there wasn’t so much as a finger’s twitch in response, so Sirius tried it again, and again, until he couldn’t even get the word past his tongue and his eyes got too blurry to see. He blinked furiously at the tears, and the frail walls that he’d had up within himself, walls of desperation, began to crumble against the unending wave of bottomless, gaping devastation.

“J-James…” He pleaded, not even recognizing the sound of his ruined voice, and his hands grasped numbly at James’ shirt, pulling his inert torso off the floor. “No, you… you can’t, you… you can’t be… please don’t…” He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence around the blinding pain searing through his chest, and all he could do was clutch uselessly at the front of James’ shirt, his grip wrinkling the fabric as the buttons dug into his fingers, holding his friend’s body to his chest. 

Somehow, a tortured whisper broke through his lips, and he said the words into the messy, cow-licked black hair that he’d seen almost every single day for the past ten years of his life. “Please, James, you have to come back.”

His knees burned a little where they dug into the carpet, under the weight of the body across his lap, and his legs ached from being folded like they were. A trickle of cold tears was falling down Sirius’ face and into James’s hair, and although Sirius’ mind was nothing but a fog of hurt, somewhere inside he knew that nothing would ever make him get up again. Not after this.

Until he heard the cry again, the one that had pulled him into the house in the first place as he looked at the smoking ruins, and it brought his head up as if he were a marionette on a string.

_Harry._

It was only the thought of the living that let his cramped fingers loose from their grip on James’ shirt, and with the utmost care, Sirius lowered the body of the dead to the floor, ignoring the sharp sensation of pins and needles in his legs. Nothing could hurt worse than the gaping hole in his chest, no physical pain could touch him and mean anything, given the loss that he had sustained.

It was nothing he had ever wanted, this sudden immunity. He was invincible in his pain. And he had no interest in living beyond this night.

He made his way up the stairs as if his entire body was made of dense wood, heavy and cumbersome, too much to carry. Half of the roof of the house had been blown clean off, and further down the hall, James and Lily’s room was mostly just a pile of rubble under the dark sky overhead. The wall blocking the nursery from view was still mostly intact, and the open door of Harry’s room beckoned Sirius closer, another tremulous cry pulling him forward.

He reached the doorway and saw Lily across the room, on the floor in front of the crib that had fallen back against the wall, her dark red hair falling across her face, and another dull roar of pain swept through him. But Sirius’ eyes were dry now. It was too much. There was too much agony in him to even bear tears.

In fact, the only thing that even made him give pause was the second body on the floor, partially blocking the doorway.

With a lurch in his midsection, Sirius suddenly realized… it was Voldemort. Voldemort, lying on the nursery floor, across from Lily.

From the crib that was leaning crookedly against the wall on broken legs, the sound of crying came again, the sobs continuing in earnest, and Sirius finally stepped through the doorway, around the body on the floor, and into the room, his eyes sluggishly tracking up to look at his godson.

His shoes must have made a sound against the carpet, for as soon as he entered the room, the cries briefly stopped, then got louder as little one-year-old Harry saw his godfather and pulled himself up to stand in his broken crib, holding on to the slats of the side as tears rolled down his round, red cheeks. A trickle of blood was also running down from his forehead, where a raw, thin gash had been bleeding.

Something broke in Sirius, and he reached for Harry at the same time as the little boy reached for him, the chubby hands raised plaintively as he cried for comfort. Sirius reached carefully over Lily and picked Harry up out of the unsteady bed, his hands closing on warm, living flesh, and he cradled the toddler to his chest and held him tightly, probably far too hard.

But Harry didn’t squirm or cry out, but quieted as soon as he was lifted from his crib, and he burrowed into his godfather’s chest, leaving tearstains behind as he fisted his little hands into Sirius’ shirt.

Sirius’ eyes burned, ached with the pressure of tears behind them, but he didn’t pay them any mind. His entire being was focused on the rhythmic breathing under his fingers, the sniffle of a blocked nose, the tiny sigh of breath against his chest. After a moment, Harry lifted his head and looked up at Sirius, one little finger poking gently at his cheek. Faint stars reflected in his big green eyes from the sky above, and then he turned his head and looked at his mother lying on the floor, right at Sirius’ feet.

“Muma.”

Sirius gasped as Harry reached for her, and he had to adjust his grip on the little boy as he twisted backwards to try and get down. “No, Harry,” His voice was rough and hoarse. “No. You can’t… no.”

Squirming and fussing when Sirius wouldn’t relinquish his grip, Harry made noises of distress and continued to reach for Lily, pushing against Sirius’ chest with his arms and legs.

Holding on to the toddler tight, Sirius fairly ran from the room, stepping carefully around and taking care not to let Harry see the other body in the room. The night had likely been terrifying enough for the little boy. He didn’t need to see any more.

Downstairs, Sirius was aware that his entire body was shaking, and he had to adjust his hold on Harry when the little boy started slipping down. The shaking got worse and worse as he went through the house, the full weight of everything he had seen starting to settle on him in a way that was breaking him.

Sirius covered Harry’s eyes as he wobbled through the living room, heading for the front door as fast as he could manage. He couldn’t let Harry see James. He couldn’t bear that. Hearing that young voice calling for the father that would never hold him again.

He gasped as he cleared the door and stood out on the porch, reaching back to shut the door. His legs gave out as the door closed behind him, and he slid down against it until he was crumpled in a heap on the door mat, Harry still cradled in his arms.

After a minute that he spent nearly completely detached from his body, unable to hear or see or even feel… Sirius finally realized that Harry was still crying.

He tried three times before his voice started working, and it was still about half the lullaby before it sounded like a song instead of a hoarse, croaking noise.

It was the lullaby Lily always sang to Harry at bedtime. And Sirius sang it over and over and over, until Harry’s little sniffles and cries faded out into silence and he sucked his thumb.

It left far too much room for Sirius to think.

Part of him, a decent bit of him that was still struggling under the weight of so much grief, made Sirius wonder what he should do with James and Lily’s bodies. Should he bury them? Should he do anything? Would they have wanted a funeral? 

The thought of a funeral, a dismal group of sad faces, draped in black as the dead, white faces of his friends disappeared under the lid of a coffin forever—

Sirius had to abruptly stop those thoughts. He… he couldn’t bear it. He made himself look down at Harry, half-asleep against his chest, sucking on his thumb. The jagged gash on his head was red and painful looking, and Sirius licked the cuff of his robe and very gently dabbed away at the blood on Harry’s face. There was no lump around the cut, so Sirius doubted that Harry had been injured when the crib broke and tilted towards the wall. The only other explanation that occurred to him was that… Voldemort must have tried to kill him.

The thought of Harry, little baby Harry, who had only just turned fifteen months old that very day, being attacked by the most evil and powerful wizard in the world, it made Sirius tuck his godson just a little more snugly against his chest.

He didn’t know what to do about the body of Voldemort. A part of him wanted to set it afire, burn every last trace of it from existence. But he was also sickened at the thought of having to see it again. It had not looked… normal. Not that Voldemort had ever looked like a normal wizard, from the reports people had given of seeing him. But the prone form upstairs had looked strangely… shriveled, somehow. Shrunken, as if something within had been sucked out and left the body behind.

Sirius was pulled out of his thoughts when something huge and dark flew low over the house, and he startled violently, grabbing for his wand. It shook Harry from his doze too, causing him to cry out.

Sirius had half a hex out of his mouth before he recognized Hagrid’s bulk and wild black hair. He was astride a large, bony thestral that landed quite lightly despite Hagrid’s size, and Sirius struggled to his feet as Hagrid dismounted the animal and came pounding towards the house.

“Sirius!” He barked, his beetle black eyes wide in his face as he looked at the partially destroyed house. “Merlin’s beard, wha’ happened? Lily and James?”

Sirius opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. He looked down at Harry in his arms, looking curiously over at Hagrid, and shook his head.

“They’re… they’re not…?” Hagrid couldn’t seem to bring himself to say the words. His eyes went from Sirius to Harry. Then he strode past them, and into the house. Sirius stood there, idly watching the thestral, but not really seeing. He’d seen one before, as Hagrid had used them to get himself around from time to time. And after seeing a group of muggles murdered by a pack of Death Eaters a year ago, he’d been able to see the magical creatures. 

A minute later, Hagrid came back out of the ruined house, his face wet and eyes red. He sounded like he was having trouble breathing, but he said nothing as he approached Sirius.

“I… I’ve come ‘ere to take Harry to Dumbledore.”

Sirius’ head jerked up, and he looked, shocked, into Hagrid’s face. “What?”

“Dumbledore’s got plans for ‘im. To keep him safe.”

“He’s… he’s safe with _me_ , Hagrid.” Sirius said, stepping back. “ _I’ll_ take care of him and keep him safe. I’m his godfather!”

Hagrid shook his head, looking sorrowful. “You can’t do it yerself, Sirius. You’re not even married, you can’t take care of a little tyke all alone, ‘specially with them Death Eater’s after you. It’s not safe for either of ya.”

“Please, Hagrid,” Sirius begged, holding Harry more securely and causing the little boy to squirm a little. “Please let me take him, he’s—” His voice broke and he had to pause. “He’s all I’ve got left.” Sirius knew, deep within himself, that right now he needed something, someone to be strong for. Because if he didn’t, he was going to make nothing but bad decisions the moment Harry was gone.

The look on Hagrid’s face was the epitome of compassion. “Oh, Sirius, lord knows you’ve lost more tonight than jus’ about anyone, ‘cept fer little Harry there, o’ course. But I’ve got my orders from Dumbledore. He’s to go to his aunt and uncle to be raised. It’s family.”

Sirius’ voice turned harsh. “ _I’m_ family. I’m more family to him than they are, I don’t think they’ve ever even seen him. I’ve heard about Lily’s Muggle sister and her husband, and I can’t imagine that Dumbledore would honestly think that leaving Harry with people like that would be best for him. I’m his godfather, Hagrid, I love him like he’s my own son.”

Hagrid’s eyes looked a little watery, and he reached out a large hand and laid it gently on Sirius’ shoulder. “I know you do, Sirius. But Dumbledore knows what’s best for ‘im. He wouldn’ do it if he didn’t.”

Sirius knew that there was nothing in the world that could force him to give up Harry. He could leave, now, and make sure no one ever found them. He could keep Harry safe, he could raise him, he could make sure Harry never forgot his parents, never forgot the sacrifice they made.

He also knew, however… that it wouldn’t be right. That no matter how much he loved Harry, he could never make up for all that they had both lost tonight. What kind of a makeshift parent could Sirius have ever made, at even the best of times? Much less now. Now, with grief compressing on his heart so much it felt like he had died.

“Lily and James,” His voice was hoarse again. “They need…”

“Dumbledore told me that they’ve got people on the way. They’ll, erm,” Hagrid had to clear his throat, “They’ll take care of the bodies.”

Sirius blinked as his vision blurred, and realized it was tears. He looked down into Harry’s face, taking in everything from the soft locks of black hair that were already starting to show cow-licks as bad as James’, the big, bright green eyes just the same shade as Lily’s, the new baby teeth he’d been getting. So much of his parents were in Harry’s face.

“Here,” Sirius whispered, handing his godson over to Hagrid. “Take him.”

For a second, Hagrid looked unsure, but then his enormous hands gently curled around the toddler and he settled Harry in his arms. Sirius shrugged out of his jacket, one he’d had since 7th year, a motorcycle jacket James had got him for Christmas. He and Hagrid wrapped it around Harry and zipped it up, tucking the long leather arms around for more warmth.

“Don’ worry, Sirius. I’ve got ‘im. And Dumbledore’ll make sure he’s well looked after.”

Sirius nodded, not trusting his voice anymore. He stepped back, his throat swelling so that he couldn’t swallow, or even breathe much.

Hagrid went over to the thestral, then paused, looking unsure about how to climb back on the beast while holding Harry. “Bit tricky, this, trying to get somewhere with a little tyke.” 

Sirius was barely listening, instead studying Harry’s face that was turned towards him. For a brief moment, it occurred to him to wonder who Hagrid had seen die that would allow him to see thestrals. “Take my bike.”

“What’s that you said, Sirius?” Hagrid asked, glancing over at him.

Sirius cleared his throat, forcing himself to look away from Harry as he gestured to where his bike had fallen. “My motorbike. Take it. I… I won’t be needing it anymore.”

Hagrid looked hesitant, glancing between Sirius and the bike. Everyone knew how much Sirius loved his bike. “I… well, I ‘preciate that. Much easier gettin’ this lad off to Dumbledore that way.” He slapped the thestral on the side and grunted for it to go home, then turned to the motorbike and pulled it upright. He looked almost comically huge next to the bike, no matter that it was the largest bike Sirius had been able to find. Hagrid straddled the machine and tucked Harry securely against his chest, keeping one arm tightly folded around the child. The roar of the engine drowned out any sounds Harry might have made, and Hagrid revved it a few times before he turned the bike around and took off down the drive.

Sirius watched as his motorbike rose, the engine roaring as it climbed higher into the air, exerting more effort to carry Hagrid’s bulk. He kept watching as it faded into the night, until the thundering of the engine was too far off to hear, and even the tail lights on the back disappeared like a star in the night. And then, he let himself have one more moment.

Because the second he let his head drop, and turned around to look back at the rubble that used to be James and Lily’s house, a house he visited frequently, that was always a place of happiness and warmth and light… a rage that was even stronger than his drowning grief roared to life.

He’d had time to think as he’d been watching Harry be carried away. And now, he had a plan. A terrible plan.

Peter. It had to be Peter. He was the Secret-Keeper, and there was no way that this could have happened, unless…

Sirius turned on his heel, away from the house, and strode away with purposeful footfalls. He did not care what it would take. He did not care what he would have to do. He was going to find Pettigrew, and the man was going to pay. He was going to pay for the lives, the precious lives that had been lost and changed and ruined tonight.

Sirius was going to kill Peter Pettigrew.

\---------------------------------------

Sirius had… no clear, sensible recollection of the passage of time. He remembered things in flashes, clear, photographic moments that stood out. 

Pinning a Death Eater that he didn’t know against a filthy brick wall, in an area he didn’t recognize, his hand like steel closing against the struggling throat. The Death Eater choking as he told Sirius where Peter was last seen.

Catching just a glimpse of Peter at the end of a dark street, chasing after him with a hoarse shout, as the wizard turned into a rat and darted down into the sewers and out of Sirius’ grasp.

Rain pelting his head as he lay by the side of a road, in the cold mud, painful sobs wracking his chest and bursting out of him with harsh, inhuman noises.

The feel of dust settling on his face as he laughed in the wake of the explosion, realizing in a horrific flash that Peter had set it up so _perfectly_ … no one would ever believe Sirius now. Laughing because if he didn’t laugh, he would be screaming.

There had been no trial. He’d been chained to a chair in a round courtroom in the Ministry of Magic just long enough for them to sentence him, then he’d been dragged from the room, screaming through a gag in his mouth the entire time.

He was in chains again now, in Azkaban, and still screaming. Screaming through the now- filthy gag in his mouth that had been there ever since he’d been hauled away from the courtroom, his fate sealed. Screaming, even though he’d lost his voice yesterday, and he was no longer making any sounds other than a rush of air and the scent of blood from his ruined throat.

Even before he’d entered the frigid expanse of this prison, he’d been certain that the world would never be a happy place again. Before he’d even felt the cold in the air that meant he was near an entire horde of dementors, he’d been inconsolable with grief and hopelessness. It didn’t take a wet, freezing trip to the North Sea for him to know, clear into his ruined soul, that his life was over.

Now… all he wanted, as he noiselessly screamed into the dark, was for it to end.


End file.
